


see you next level

by verity



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Moving In Together, Saint Petersburg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 03:32:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10481115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity
Summary: Yuuri and Victor have been living together in Saint Petersburg for four months and three gold medals. Until last night, Victor thought Yuuri was pretty well settled in."I'm not taking a shot every time Michael Kors talks," Yuuri says, slumping down so far on the couch that his butt is at the edge of the cushion. Just looking at him makes Victor's back hurt. "We'll run out of vodka."Phichit says, "We're in Russia?" He is wearing sunglasses. Indoors.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reallyyeahokay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reallyyeahokay/gifts), [magneticwave](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magneticwave/gifts).



> for reallyyeahokay, who was having a bad day; for magneticwave, who gave me the premise of this story when I was like HOW DO FLUFF. thanks to ashe & meg for cheerleading and to saezutte for japanese help! <3333333 friendship is magic bye

Yuuri and Victor have been living together in Saint Petersburg for four months and three gold medals. Until last night, Victor thought Yuuri was pretty well settled in.

"I'm not taking a shot every time Michael Kors talks," Yuuri says, slumping down so far on the couch that his butt is at the edge of the cushion. Just looking at him makes Victor's back hurt. "We'll run out of vodka."

Phichit says, "We're in Russia?" He is wearing sunglasses. Indoors.

Victor glances between the two of them and Makkachin, all curled up on the couch. "Are you two…" The show on the TV flickers in the glare on their glasses. Phichit crams another handful of popcorn in his mouth. "Good?"

Victor's not good at being a host. That's Yuuri, who picks up Phichit's glass with his lithe fingers and holds it out to Victor. "Do you think…" he says, eyelashes fluttering behind his thick lenses, "Do you think you could make Phichit another cosmo?"

"Do you want one, too?" Victor says, talking the empty glass with his good hand.

"Haha." Phichit points his toe at the bottle of vodka and overturned shot glass on the table. "He's set. You want to watch, too?"

Victor has been paying for cable for the last three years, but never bothered to hook up his TV to more than the DVD player. The TV stand is full of Criterion collection releases, most still in their original shrink wrap. Phichit skipped right over them last night on his way to the remote. "What do you guys even get here?" he said. "It's so annoying to watch American stuff live at home."

It turns out that they get _Project Runway_. And _Keeping Up with the Kardashians_. And a hundred other things "on demand." Yuuri came to bed last night at midnight, yawning and flushed with alcohol and fondness, and Victor fussed over him and looked at his ankle although there was nothing to see, and then kissed the scarred skin there. Yuuri was asleep before Victor let go of his ankle.

* * *

Yuuri has a sprained ankle; Victor broke his wrist running to meet Yuuri at the kiss and cry. They've been talking about the wedding date for a few weeks, in between trips to the doctor—whether they'll wait another year until the peonies of Hasetsu are in bloom, or do something sooner, over the off-season. Yuuri seems quiet, but he's seemed that way for months—first focused, then subdued. He still lights up when he sees Victor, though, and it goes all the way to his eyes.

His eyes are doing something else right now, though. "God," Yuuri says—slurring a little—"Can you believe that? The—the plaid!"

Victor is sitting next to Yuuri, acutely sober and uncertain. "You're objecting to the plaid?"

Phichit sips his cosmopolitan daintily. "Yuuri is a man of taste. It's just bad taste."

"Even I know that the lines should meet," Yuuri says.

"Where do I start," says Michael Kors on the TV.

"A-ha!" says Phichit.

Yuuri slides off the couch onto his back and laughs for a good minute into Makkachin's fur before he sits up and pours another shot. " _Nomitai_?" he says, holding out the glass to Victor. 

Victor takes it. "To our health," he murmurs, then tilts back his head and lets the vodka burn the whole way down.

* * *

"What do you want for dinner?" Yuuri says to Phichit after a couple more episodes. "We could order something, or I could cook."

"You are so too drunk to cook," Phichit says. "Victor, can you order pizza?"

"If you both drink some water," Victor says.

Phichit holds out his hand to shake. He's still wearing the sunglasses. "It's a deal."

Under Victor's careful supervision, Yuuri drinks two full glasses of water, giving Victor bedroom eyes the whole time. Which would be nice, if Phichit weren't sleeping on the couch for the next two nights. Victor's never had a real guest here before—just Yuuri and Chris, and not at the same time. Maybe they need a new couch. Or a new apartment.

"You should do stretches so you don't get stiff," Victor says, tugging Yuuri to his feet. "That can't be good for your back."

Yuuri wraps his arms around Victor instead. "Mmm," he says, planting a kiss on Victor's cheek. "Do I have to? Tell me, Coach Victor."

Phichit is holding his phone at a suspicious angle. 

"Do not put this on the internet," Victor says as Yuuri nibbles on the shoulder seam of Victor's t-shirt.

"Pfff," Phichit says, but he turns his attention and his camera on Makkachin. "Can I take her for a walk?"

"Sure," Victor says. "Keys and her leash are by the door. Bags—"

Phichit nods. "Under the sink, I know." 

Victor wraps an arm around Yuuri's waist, so he's supporting Yuuri's weight; he kisses Yuuri's cheeks, his nose. Makkachin whoofs and the outside door clicks shut. Yuuri's skin is so soft right here, just under the curve of his jaw, and his whole body is loose right now. Has Victor ever seen him so relaxed? Except for that one time when—

"Shhh." Yuuri touches Victor's face, the smooth metal of his ring dragging against Victor's stubble. "I can hear you thinking."

"Are you unhappy here?" Victor blurts out.

Yuuri pulls back abruptly. "What?"

"In Saint Petersburg. You don't—" Victor jerks his head toward the couch, which cost 200,000 RUB new and is now littered with crumpled paper towels and some crushed popcorn. "You don't do this with me."

"You don't watch TV," Yuuri says.

"I could," Victor says. "We own one."

Yuuri blinks at him.

"This is your home?" Victor tries. "We could buy another one, if you don't like it."

"I don't like the corners on the—on the furniture. They're very sharp. Your stove has electric burners." Yuuri shifts in Victor's grip to lean in again, rubbing his cheek against Victor's. "Your cheek is sharp right now, too. I'm kind of..." He sighs. "Ugh. It's bright."

They sit down on the couch, or Victor does, and Yuuri is just—on top of him. The couch is the right size for one man and one dog, or two people, or three of any kind who want to sit very closely. Victor's life didn't used to feel so small, but he can barely fit a fraction of Yuuri's inside of it for a few days. Literally. He pushes his hand under the worn terrycloth of Yuuri's horrendously ugly Red Wings hoodie; the cast on his wrist catches on the fabric. "You are incredible." Victor presses a kiss to the delicate stretch of Yuuri's throat. "You make me—" He can't even say it. Just— "More."

"Mmm," Yuuri says, tucking his face under Victor's chin and promptly falling asleep.

* * *

Phichit and Victor eat most of the pizza. "This is very bad," Phichit says, eating with disproportionate enthusiasm. "Thank you."

"You're welcome?" Victor says. "I mean—yes. Thank you, also."

"Don't hurt yourself." Phichit stretches out a long tendril of cheese from the slice on his plate and winds it around his finger. "We didn't do this all the time, okay? Like, when Ciao Ciao was out of town, so we had, like, plausible deniability about Yuuri buying me alcohol."

"Yuri did compete internationally and finish college, so," Victor says.

"Do not make him skate hungover," Phichit says. "He will puke so much."

Yuuri is currently dozing beatifically on the couch, one hand thrown over his head and the other wrapped around a couch cushion. He's not even drooling. What impossible trust he's given them.

Victor says, "Does he have strong feelings about stoves? Generally?"

"We're going to have to get so much more alcohol if we watch Food Network," Phichit says. "Like. A lot more."

* * *

Victor spends the entire day after Phichit leaves in bed, because his liver is four years older than Yuuri's and he doesn't even want to think about Phichit. "Poor baby," Yuuri says, hovering. He brings Victor water and kisses the tips of Victor's fingers, his knuckles where they emerge from the cast. Then he makes Victor miso soup on their apparently terrible stove and watches Victor drink it out of a giant mug. "Salt helps, for the electrolytes." 

They curl up together in bed, the blackout curtains drawn over the floor-to-ceiling windows on the far wall. Yuuri makes Victor be the little spoon, rolling Victor onto his good side so he won't accidentally put weight on his wrist. How is it possible to feel so tender and so queasy at the same time? "I'm sorry."

"You don't always have to be the one taking care of me," Yuuri says. "It's nice to take care of you."

They take a long nap. It's dark when they go to sleep and only a little darker when they wake; Victor can't even guess at the time. Yuuri noses at the back of his neck sleepily and Victor puts his lips to Yuuri's palm. "I want to get married in April. Lots of peonies. All of our friends. That's what I want."

"Okay," Yuuri says sleepily. "I want to go home. And when we come back, I want to redo the kitchen and get a second couch."

"Yes," Victor says. "Of course. Anything."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [ladyofthelog](http://ladyofthelog.tumblr.com) on tumblr.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] see you next level](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10873467) by [knight_tracer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/knight_tracer/pseuds/knight_tracer)




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